Beneath the Surface
by Lightofstar
Summary: Jason reflects on his need for contact but Roy has decided to make his own desires more apparent. Slashy vibes.


Disclaimer: DC owns all the characters. This is just for fun.

Warnings: For Jasons' language.

Pairings: One sided Roy Harper/Jason Todd

_A/N: I wanted to try something different than the things I usually see in Jason fic. Although some of this is based on the descriptions Lobedell, the writer of Red Hood and the Outlaw, gave in interviews. Not the slashy vibes but in terms of Jason expressing himself._

It didn't take long for Jason to figure out Harpers' secret. He had picked up on subtle tells in physical reactions since his days on the streets enough to know when someone was attracted to him. What surprised Jasonin regards to Harper was two-fold. Firstly he had always been under the impression that the archer was as straight as the arrows he shot. Secondly if Harper was interested in him then why wasn't he trying something? The guy was as almost as much a horndog as the Green Arrow.

Jason had steeled himself for the talk or not-so-subtle suggestions. While he harbored no ill feelings for same sex relationships he wasn't interested in pursuing them. Nor did he feel inclined to test such waters for the hell of it. Sometimes he'd ignore the obvious leading Harper to believe he hadn't noticed. A few times, when it amused him, Jason would put a swagger in his step to see what reaction he'd get. Other than a couple of laughs it lost it's appeal and Roy had to have known he was found out afterward. Nevertheless they never talked about it or the odd comments the red head had made when Jason was heavily medicated. Because he thinks he'd have to kill Roy if he really called him _that_ nickname.

In general Jason didn't let anyone get too close to him. Once burned and all that. With Roy and Kory there was a level of...well not trust exactly. He allowed them to work with him a little. But he always drew the line at touchy feely crap. Well as much as he could, Kory was overly affectionate and that could be nice. If only to himself, on rare occasions, Jason could admit that he was sorely touch deprived. He both yearned for it and was repulsed by it. Yearning for the comfort and unspoken attachment of such gestures and repulsed by his desire for it. Jason hated feeling needy.

The last real hug he had was when he embraced his birth mother with the foolish hope that she would at least give him the unconditional love no one else could. He wouldn't be a convent replacement that failed to measure up to her. Surely with his own mother he could just be himself and that would be enough. Apparently not as she had been the one to hand deliver him into the waiting arms of his murderer. No, Jason couldn't fall for that tempting lure of companionship or family again.

There were times when he wondered how Kory and Roy saw him. Was it the way most did? As the failure of a Robin that was used as a warning to sidekicks? Or was it as a stand in for Dick? Jason told himself he didn't care if they saw him as the bad Robin, he didn't meet Batmans' standards and went out of his way to do what most of their community wouldn't. His hands were dirty but the killers that slaughter innocents were dead. At least he was doing something instead of sending these people to time outs in the revolving door prison systems. He didn't see how they could see him as Mr. Perfect but that hadn't stopped others from doing it in the past.

With a sigh Jason removed his gloves to study his right hand. He was sure it wasn't broken but it stung like a bitch. Some jackass had thrown him against a wall and while the body armor protected him from most of the impact his hand still hurt. Might have been because of the gun in his grasp slamming against the brick wall and biting into his palm. Frowning he flexed the fingers noting nothing amiss, likewise his wrist felt uninjured.

"I knew you got hurt," Roy called from the doorway, "noticed you didn't use that hand to take any shots. I know you're "fine."" He mocked making those stupid finger air quote that always made Jason want to deck whoever did it. "Come on let me see it."

"I don't need help looking at an non-existent injury. Nothing's broken. Skin might be a little sensitive but-"

Jason was mainly talking to himself as he wasn't in the mood for whatever Harper had in mind. Coddling pissed him off and he was to annoyed to get into another pissing content over who was overreacting. If someone didn't want help then you left them the hell alone. Why couldn't Roy and Kory understand that?

At the sound of boots Jason trailed off ready to make some smart ass remark to get the older man to leave. Much to his dismay Harper isn't take the hint this time and gets way to close to his personal bubble for his comfort. Glancing at the scowl plainly written on Jasons' face the archer rolled his eyes. "Just let me see and I won't bug you about it anymore. Arrows' honor."

Jason snorts at that because since when do the Arrows have a code of honor? He repeats the question outloud but Harper has already moved closer still. Without warning he presses his forefinger against the flat outstretched palm and Jason hisses at the contact. Harper quirks an eyebrow at the reaction.

"You weren't kidding about the sensitivity."

"No shit. Do you want to rub salt the next time I get a knife wound?" He tenses as Harpers' fingers gently encircle his wrist. Way too fucking close. Off his look the archer jerks his head towards the beat up futon against the wall.

"Poor baby, did your non-existent injury hurt too bad? Come on bad boy, let's take a look at this."

Tugging against the gentle pull Jason flinches as the tender area of his hand twists in Harpers' hold. He gets a tsking almost worthy of Alfred before he's firmly pushed down into a sitting position next to the other abandoned former sidekick. Waiting expectantly for the ridiculous exam to start he's caught off guard by the feather light touch against his skin. He almost didn't notice it, starting at his wrist before slowly trailing up to the knuckles. "Not that sensitive."

"Didn't want to hurt you. I know you can't handle pain." There's a lighthearted jibing in the tone but also something else Jasons' not used to hearing. Softer, like the fingers tracing the path of his skin. Harpers' hand curves over the back of his fingers before sliding ever so slowly down the slope of the open palm. Jason doesn't even feel the pain as it swipes over the area the butt of his gun slammed again. A thumb presses down and Jason has to clamp down on the grunt that want to escape. "So...right here."

Sighing Jason gives an eye roll of his own. "Imagine that. Next you'll be telling me that it's not broken." A familiar fire of defiance lights Jasons' eyes with his next words, "I've been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I looked out for myself because no one else would. I don't need or want anyone to look over me."

He can't read the expression in Harpers' eyes but it's intense and meserizing. Like he's just discovered a great world changing truth. It's unbearable to see that look so Jason tries to shift away. To break whatever this trance he's in.

"Think you'll survive the major owwie?" Back to lame jokes it seems like Harpers' back to what passes as normal with him.

"I think I'll live." Jason bites out practically dripping with sarcasm. "If you're done here I'd like to have my hand back now."

A mischievous smirk splits Harpers' face but a trained eye can see the traces of nervousness. The very real panic of uncertainty that's quickly covered with the trademark Arrow smugness. Cradling the wounded bird he's holding he gently lifts the tender hand upwards. Jason lifts an eyebrow as he watches the archers' face descend dangerously close. As if he was playing the role of some medieval maiden to Harpers' Robin Hood, receiving one of those idiotic hand kisses.

Only the shaky breath he hears keeps Jason from punching the moron as he dares to press his lips against the knuckles like the younger man was some dainty girl. But much to his amazement Harper doesn't stop there, planting a small trail of kisses over Jasons' hand like it was the most precious thing he ever saw. Jason almost expected this to turn perverted with a tongue lapping at him as if the man was a dog in heat. But that never happens. The annoyance he feels dies at the sensation against his skin. He's never felt anything like it, his flesh prickles at the touches. Damn, it was weird...still other than the embarrassment it felt kind of nice. Like he was something special for once. Worthy of someone elses' attention. Despite that he aches with the knowledge of all he's been missing out on.

It was stupid to feel hurt over such an odd gesture of affection that Jason would have normally hit Harper for. But he supposed the wounds of his past had never been allowed to heal. He'd always be that street kid that desperately craved even the smallest scrap of approval and tenderness. Jason knew this and loathed it.

As the lips touch his abused flesh Jason hisses at the pain as the kisses circled the area. Harper pays extra attention to the spot making him squirm at the strange sensation. Beside his apparent desperation for human contact Jason really has no reason to let this continue. And frankly it's starting to get too weird for his taste. As if sensing his thoughts the archer met him squarely in the eye as his lips touched his wrist before releasing his hold. "Kissed it better."

There's a breathy quality to his voice and yes his pupils are dilated. Pushing down the half form thought that perhaps this attraction is stronger than he suspected Jason pushes himself up. Because as good as he is at detecting someone's intentions Jason would never believe anyone would ever feel anything stronger than a fleeting desire for him.


End file.
